


Confessions From A Woman In Love

by sendricamp



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 02:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendricamp/pseuds/sendricamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't know where this came from in my head, but here it is.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Confessions From A Woman In Love

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from in my head, but here it is.

_She sets the camera on the dresser, sitting down on her bed, her eyes staring straight ahead. She gathers her thoughts before she sighs._

There is one vital piece of information you need to know before I continue. I am not a cheater. I am a faithful girlfriend, and I have been in every single relationship I have found myself in. Okay, there was that one time in sixth grade that I kissed Jake while dating Alex, but really, I was eleven and who really goes on a proper date when you are eleven? Exactly.

I don’t cheat. When I have something good, I know not to fuck it up, so if by some chance I even see someone else who catches my eye, I know to keep my mouth shut because risking the three years of happiness I have built up just isn’t worth it. And it is really that simple. Edgar makes me happy. He knows what makes me tick so he knows how to not set me off. He understands that if I go a few days without answering his calls or text messages, that I needed some time alone just to unwind.

Sure, the whole living with an ocean between us more than half of the time is a pain in the ass, but we make it work. The effort pays off when we are together. We catch up on movies or he makes food, because I would only burn the house down, and I don’t think my roommate would appreciate that. I love him. I am in love with him. Which is what confuses the shit out of me when it comes to Brittany.

She was, literally, the exact opposite of Edgar. I am not even talking about the female part. Her taste in movies was the complete opposite, she couldn’t cook to save her life and the electricity I felt run through me every single time she touched me was killing me. She made my head hurt, but in the best possible way.

I didn’t know what to think when I first met her. I walked into that first day of boot camp, and immediately I was wrapped in a hug, practically choking on her hair. I wasn’t guarded -- at all, really -- but I usually preferred handshakes before being bombarded by a hug.

Snow was a hugger. Camp was, too, for that matter. Everyone was huggers. Have you ever been in a world of huggers when all you wanted was one decent handshake? It’s like a nightmare. You see them coming at you and no matter how tiny you are, no amount of bobbing and weaving can help you escape. The worst -- or best, depending on how you look at it -- part was that I never tried to run from Snow. I would see that red hair coming at me and all I could do was brace myself.

She had the hugs that I needed the most, really. The hotel wasn’t that great and the dancing and singing was killing me. I didn’t know what in the hell I signed up for, but there was no turning back and I was breaking down. If you looked at me, you wouldn’t know it -- but you aren’t Snow. She has this creepy way of knowing when something is wrong, no matter how many barriers you have up. She is the type that will pull you aside and ask if you are okay -- then she will give you this look when you lie and say you are -- but never really stop watching you.

It could have been a mistake to give her my spare room key -- might have, but remember, this isn’t one of those stories, because I don’t cheat -- but when she realized that I was pulling away from everything, she was there. I had tried to make up some excuse about wanting to make sure I was getting the songs right, but I knew she wouldn’t believe me, because that was just how Snow worked. So I told her the truth. It was my seventh movie in that year and I was exhausted. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. Maybe the physical part was more from the dancing for ten hours a day, but really, are you paying that much attention to detail here?

There was a bar in Baton Rouge, and I think by the end of filming this bar hated us. Or loved us. Depending on how you look at it. I think there were at least ten cast members there, every single night. I don’t know how some of them managed during the whole boot camp thing. I was always finding time to be in my room taking as much of a hot bath as one could manage in three inches of water. Seriously, I get that I am little, but even I need more than that to properly get rid of aches and pains from doing things someone ten years younger than me would be able to with no problem.

God, am I really feeling that old? Great.

I don’t know why I am discussing a bathtub with a crack in it. That isn’t what this is about. Actually, I am not even entirely sure what this is or why I am doing it, but I guess that is besides the point, right? Standing here, talking to myself, trying to remember events that happened over a year ago when I am lazy to the point of not getting up to get the remote just because it is a foot out of my reach.

I am getting distracted again.

Snow. She is why I am here. She is the focus of this tale. She is the reason I am more confused than I have ever been in my life. She is the reason I am second guessing every single instance of a three year relationship.

I wouldn’t say that I am truly in love with her, but there is something there, which makes it really, really hard to keep a smile on my face when I am with Edgar. He knows, we’ve talked about it, and there is nothing more frustrating that someone telling you to do what you think is right. Like, not even going to Taco Bell for a steak quesadilla only to wait in the long ass drive-thru line just to find out they are out of steak is that frustrating.

He said that to me almost ten months ago, and I still don’t know what I think is right. Tell her that I can’t stop thinking about her and run the risk of ruining one of the best friendships I have or keep it all locked away until it slowly eats me alive. Not really a win-win situation here. More like a lose-fuck my life kind of deal. I don’t let things get to me. I brush them off as nothing and move on with my life.

But I can’t fucking move on from Snow.

Camp doesn’t help, either, really. She didn’t give me the do what I feel is right line. She gave me the oh-my-god-I-knew-you-had-a-thing-for-her line. Not so much frustrating as it is annoying. I can brush them away with some smooth lie but it all comes back to her.

Brittany Anne Fucking Snow.

Quickly becoming the definition of the term life ruiner.

So maybe it is love. Maybe there is that extra little thing that she has -- I have no idea what exactly -- but it is enough for me to love her just that extra tiny bit more than I love Edgar.

Either way, I lose.

If I keep it locked up, I stay miserable and Edgar has to live with the fact that he was second choice.

If I tell her, she does that thing where she brushes it off like I am joking and then goes home to her boyfriend.

I cannot win.

_She stands up, turning the camera off. She’ll come back to it in a few days._

_\--_

_Her roommate is out for the night, so she sets the camera on the coffee table and sits on the floor, chewing on her bottom lip._

I almost kissed her. Like, came within centimeters of her fucking mouth almost kissed her. I decided she needed to know, because I am a genius like that, right? So, I go to her place and she invites me in like always and we sit down on the couch and talk like always and then I just let it spill out that all those times I spent joking about how much I love her were true. That I love her.

I have never seen another human brush someone off that fast. And it fucking hurt. Blah. Blah. Blah. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Blah. She was a broken fucking record. So I yelled at her. I told her she was being arrogant and thick-headed and an overall fucking idiot. Remember, I am a genius, right? So, there I was, yelling at her about how stupid she was being about it because I really did love her and with each word I was stepping closer and closer and then I was right there and I could feel her breath and see how her pupils had dilated and I was right there and I was so close, and then I whispered that I loved her and I almost fucking kissed her.

Almost.

Because I don’t cheat.

I just come dangerously close to it.

I don’t know what to do now. I told her I loved her, and she brushed me off like she always does. Does that mean I lose? I am an adult. I am supposed to know the answers to shit like this.

But I don’t, because Snow confuses the fuck out of me.

The best way I can think to accurately describe her is that she is that one song on the radio that you hate, but you love, and it is always so overplayed so even when you aren’t near the radio, you still hear it. It hangs out in the back of your mind, beating softly, words and notes falling forward before it just slams into you full force the moment you think you are over it. That makes sense, right?

This love thing can go fuck itself.

_She shuts the camera off, leaning back against the couch. Tears are trying to force their way out of her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall._

_\--_

_She locks the bedroom door, pressing the record button on the camera before sitting at the foot of her bed._

I broke up with Edgar. That was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, and the fact that he knew it was coming didn’t make it any easier. I think he knew the days were numbered once I told him that I told Snow how I felt. I could see his heart breaking. I could feel it.

He held me. Or maybe I held him. He cried, and that broke my heart more. It just.. it wasn’t fair to him. To be standing there and loving me with all of his heart when I was failing to give him my whole heart. It hurts more than I thought it would. I always imagined if I were the one to end a relationship, it would be so carefree and I would feel nothing but joy at setting the other person free, but it isn’t like that. Movies and books and television lie.

I got a text from her after Edgar went to the airport. Her boyfriend walked out on her. One too many fights, or something. So I dragged my broken heart to her apartment, and she cried. It was the second time in a four hour span that I had ended up with someone crying on me -- besides myself, of course. I didn’t ask what the final straw had been. It was explained in the way her arms slid around my waist. It was in the way, once her tears were dry, how she still held her face to my neck. It was in the way how she asked me to stay the night because she didn’t want to be alone.

And I listened.

Because I am a genius.

I thought that everything would be fine in the morning.

Sometimes, I need to stop thinking. I don’t know how I pictured it going, but it sure didn’t involve being forcibly pushed from the apartment. Her stupid fucking boyfriend -- I guess a phone call after I had fallen asleep contained an apology -- was coming home and it would ruin everything if I was there. So, instead, naturally, I sat outside the apartment door and waited to see her knight in shining armor appear.

And he did.

And I could see the hate in his eyes when I stood up.

I don’t know what sparked it, but before he could enter that apartment, I told him that he needed to back off. To let Snow be happy. I didn’t assume she needed me for that happiness, but I know she didn’t need him. So he turned and he walked away. I knocked on her door, and her face fell when it wasn’t him. I told her what I had said and then I stepped into her apartment and I closed the door and I turned her and pushed her against the wall and I kissed her.

I swear I saw fireworks.

Her lips were softer than I could have imagined. She tasted like strawberries. My hands were on either side of her head, and her hands were pulling me as close to her as I could get. Over a year of pent up sexual frustration was pouring over into the kiss, and I think I got a little light headed from lack of oxygen. It turns out you need that stuff to breathe. So I pulled back, I asked her to be my girlfriend, and now I have a date to get ready for.

I don’t know at what point I fell in love with her, and she doesn’t know when she fell in love with me, but the sense of relief when you finally tell someone the truth that you have been hiding for so long is amazing. Maybe, one day, I can bust out this tape and show it to her, but for now?

For now, I turn it off and put it in that box that everyone has at the back of their closet or under their beds. That box that holds every single life-changing memory, whether it is a letter someone wrote you in highschool or a tape that tells how you fell out of love with Mr. Right and fell in love with Mrs. Right.


End file.
